


Green

by IntoTheGallifray



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheGallifray/pseuds/IntoTheGallifray
Summary: Charm goes to a gala, and things get spicy...
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	Green

Charles surveyed the crowd with a watchful eye, taking in the mixture of people milling about the event hall. He had been asked [ordered] to attend the yearly Young Tech autumn gala, which welcomed its staff, clients, partners, and even rival technology companies. As per usual, it was done up to the nines; exquisite food, tasteful decorations, spectacular choice in music...though it wasn't surprising as Samantha Young was the planner. Charles had been strategically mingling, sometimes talking up Young Tech, sometimes eavesdropping on other conversations, waiting for Samuel and the other Young's to arrive. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering to the youngest Young, Sam, finding he was perhaps more than eager to see her. After their kiss in the office, he'd been hard pressed to not think about the feel of her lips, the touch of her skin, her utter responsiveness to him; perhaps against his better judgement. He was a man haunted, and was about one snapped chainlink away from giving in to everything, giving in to her. The MC's voice blared over the speakers and Charles turned, though the words were completely lost on him as he zeroed in on the one person in the room who would always capture his attention. Her hair was down, thick waves framing her face, and a touch of makeup highlighted her eyes behind her glasses. Eyes travelling downward, Charles tugged at his tie as he saw the deep green dress she was wearing; the off-the-shoulder lace bodice tightly hugging her curves while the bottom draped downward onto the floor. He swallowed hard as his gaze followed the slit in the dress, starting at her upper thigh and wide enough that a more than tantalizing view of her leg was presented. At the bottom, her small delicate feet were encased in black strappy heels, highlighting her shapely calves. He looked back up to her face and watched her search the room. She seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the attentions of the other attendees, but when her eyes found his, an expression that crossed somewhere between relief and joy graced him, and he found his legs walking over to her before he could stop himself. 

"Charles," he heard her exhale as he approached, unable to stop a smile of his own, inspired by her presence.

"Jones," Samuel nodded gruffly.

"Hello Charles," smiled Samantha.

"No Jay or Ruth this evening?" Charles inquired, noting their absence.

"They were called in to the h-hospital for an emergency surgery," explained Sam.

"Ah I see," replied Charles, his fingers twitching as he forcibly held his hand from curving around the swell of her hip.

"Any stiff competition?" asked Samuel as he looked around the gala already in full swing.

"We may have some trouble with ByteCoin," the blond commented, "But I do believe I have Petrichorp on the hook."

"Good," grunted Samuel, letting out a huff when his wife elbowed him slightly, "I mean...well done, Jones."

"Think nothing of it," replied the Welshman, eyebrow raised.

Samantha, who had seen how Charles and her daughter had been looking at one another, grabbed Samuel by the arm and batted her eyes up at him, "Come Samuel, let's go get some drinks."

"Whatever you desire, my love," he cooed. Then, for good measure, he turned and shot Charles a scathing glance, "No funny business, Jones."

Charles merely nodded in response and as he watched the two leave, he felt a small tug on the sleeve of his navy jacket. He turned to see Samara looking up at him, a small smile on her face.

"I'm glad you could make it," her voice was soft, almost shy, "I thought you might give it a miss."

He reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his voice warm, “I wouldn't dream of it, Bunty.”

He then turned sideways and gestured for her to precede him toward the main body of the event, his hand coming to hover just behind the small of her back. Her eyes lit up and she walked on ahead, peering back at him from beneath her lashes. Charles choked slightly, knowing full well that he would swim oceans and cross deserts just to see that look on her face a little longer. Unfortunately, not being used to heels or long dresses, Sam's toe caught on the floor and she stumbled backward. Charles lunged and caught her in his arms, their faces inches apart as he held her, unable to let her go just yet. The spell was broken when the MC's voice rung out, calling people to please sit at their assigned tables as dinner was about to be served; a 5-course meal that spared no expense. Charles eased Sam to her feet and they walked over to their table, both noting their places had been set beside one another, as far as possible from Samuel's seat. _'Thank you, Mrs. Young,'_ thought Charles as he pulled Sam's chair out for her then sat in his own. Throughout dinner, Charles could feel the light brushing touch of Sam's leg against his, more times than could be considered accidental. He also noticed that she seemed to lean toward him unconsciously, and her eyes were often searching his face to gauge his reactions. Through this, he could also sense a burning, angry pair of eyes practically searing holes into his skull from across the table, doing his best to not acknowledge them. Between dinner and the next course, Charles felt Sam place her hand on his thigh, almost choking on his wine in his surprise. He'd lightly laid his hand atop hers...and also mentally planned out his funeral. After dessert, Samantha sensed that Sam and Charles could use some alone time, so she convinced Samuel to get up and dance with her. Before leaving the table, Samuel turned to Charles, pointing his index and middle fingers toward his eyes, then towards Charles' in a clearly threatening manner. Charles let out a small sigh of relief at their departure, squeezing Sam's hand lightly.

"Samara, you look absolutely stunning in that dress," his eyes were dark and his voice low, as his gaze shifted slowly downward then back up "I've been wanting to tell you that all night."

"What took you so long?" she teased as she bit her lower lip, an action that never failed to have Charles reaching for his tie.

"You mean _besides_ your father's attempt at bringing to life the moniker 'if looks could kill'?"  
Sam laughed and Charles drank in the sound, wondering how he could go about hearing it again. He leaned toward her, wholly enraptured by the sparkle in her eyes, "Samara, I-"

"JONES," it didn't matter how far away Samuel was, his booming yell could cut through even the loudest of cacophonies.

Charles turned to see Samuel storming past the table, barely pausing to say "We might be able to net a contract with the national defense department, follow."

Charles shot an apologetic glance Sam's way, then followed his employer as they made for a small group of men in black suits, some adorned with pins of national recognition. Sam watched him go, unable to quell the feeling of disappointment at not hearing the rest of his sentence. She wasn't blind, she'd seen the effect she had on him. She had hoped they could use tonight to talk about their 'arrangement,' especially after having had more than innocent thoughts regarding their kiss, needing it to become a repeat occurrence. Before she could get too lost in her musings, the clearing of a throat sounded above her. She looked up to see a tall, handsome man with jet black hair and warm smile aimed in her direction.

"Bonjour mademoiselle," his voice lilted with the accent of someone straight from Paris, "I wondered if perhaps I could ask you for this dance?"

Sam blushed fiercely, her eyes darting in Charles' direction as she stammered, "Oh! I...I'm af-fraid I don't really know how to d-dance."

"Ah, but that is no problem!" he declared, winking roguishly, "I would be more than happy to teach you."

He extended a hand toward her and she contemplated taking it, finally doing so when he added playfully, "You can even stand on my feet if you want, cherie."

She giggled and followed him to the dance floor, dress swirling as he began leading her through the moves.

At first, Charles had been about 99% focused on the conversation occurring in front of him, aiding Samuel in convincing the national defense department to choose Young Technologies. But when his peripheral vision had caught a moving glimpse of green, he turned to see Sam, _his_ Sam, dancing with another man. She was smiling, and he was holding her, and Charles was instantly fuming. Samuel, having noticed Charles' distraction, opened his mouth to berate the Welshman, but then he saw where his attention had been directed.

"Jones," his tone was a dangerous one, "If you don't go and rescue my pumpkin from that _damn dirty scoundrel_ this instant, I'll have your ass deported so fast you'll have lifelong whiplash."

"Gladly," Charles got out through gritted teeth, striding across the room toward Sam.

The music had slowed and the aforementioned scoundrel had pulled her in close, swaying in time, setting Charles' blood on fire. Just as the blond approached them, the stranger spun Sam outward and Charles, without missing a beat, grabbed her hand and spun her to him, tossing a "Don't mind if I cut in," over his shoulder. It had not been phrased in the form of a question, and the Frenchman could sense when he should walk away, doing just that.

Sam's hand came up to rest on his chest and she looked up into his stormy eyes as they moved to the rhythm, her words quiet, "What was that about?"

Charles' eyes glanced upward to see Samuel marching their way, murderous intent written clearly across his face. But then the incoming titan was intercepted by his wife, his face melting instantly, and Charles took that moment to whirl Sam outward, keeping his grip on her hand as he tugged them both out of her father's sightline. He pulled her against him once more and they continued swaying to the music.

"Your father requested I come and 'rescue' you," he said, unconvincing to his own ears.

Clearly she felt the same as she raised an expectant eyebrow up at him.

He sighed and finally admitted, "I couldn't bear the thought of someone else holding you, touching you," his voice was strained as the hand he had splayed across her lower back flexed possessively, pulling her closer.

"It was only a dance," she replied, clutching his lapel.

"Yet I find myself wishing you to only _dance_ with me," his well-delivered emphasis had Sam blushing.

"Then show me," her voice held a commanding tone.

He didn't hesitate then, releasing her fingers and sliding his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her up into a kiss that spoke volumes of how he felt, making up for where his words failed him. She melted into him, her fingers burying themselves in his hair as she fervently returned the embrace, both losing themselves to the other in that moment. Sam pulled back slightly, breathless as she regarded his features. His mouth was quirked into a small smile, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes held a depth she would gladly get lost in. She stroked his jaw and he bent forward, pressing one more kiss to her lips before spinning her and holding her so her back was flush with his chest. His breath ghosted across her ear, his voice rumbling through her as he said, "Would you like to continue this elsewhere?"

She turned her head, her response a whisper, "Very much."

"As you wish."

He pressed his hips against her backside, and she could _very much_ feel precisely his opinion on a change in location. The hand he had resting on her stomach slowly slid down her dress, the fabric hiding it from the view of anyone looking on. Sam’s breath hitched as it came to rest low on her hip, his middle finger fitting perfectly into the crease where her leg met her hip. She could feel the heat of him through the thin layer of material, the pad of his finger rubbing light circles where it sat. She wanted so badly for him to continue its path forward, to rub those circles where she really needed his touch. She didn’t know it, but he was seriously considering the same, until he heard Samuel’s voice ring out over the music and chatter, “Pumpkin? WHERE IS MY PUMPKIN-POOH?! JONES get ready for deportation.”  
He reluctantly withdrew his hand from her and moved to stand a short distance behind her just as Samuel rounded the corner.  
  
“Oh there you are, dearest,” Samuel pulled her into a hug, eyes glaring at Charles over the top of her head, “Why don’t you come back to the table?”  
  
Charles sighed internally, prepared to resign himself to an evening of walking on eggshells, when Sam surprised him. Well, first she confused the both of them as her words were muffled into her father’s shirt.  
  
“What was that, Pumpkin?” Samuel asked as he relaxed his hold slightly.  
  
“I said I’m a-actually feeling really tired, Ch-Charles just offered to drive me home.”  
  
Charles met Samuel’s glower with a neutral expression, hoping for divine intervention in the form of-  
  
“Darling, let our poor girl go to bed,” Samantha’s soothing voice descended over the three of them, “You know how she feels about crowds.”  
  
Samuel still seemed unsure, eyes darting from Sam to Charles and back.  
  
“Come, love,” Samantha spoke softly, tugging on her husband’s arm, “Let’s go have some fun of our own.” Charles jumped when Samantha sent a wink in his direction, not missing her mischievous smile.  
  
“Anything for you, my world,” Samuel replied, releasing Sam and wrapping his arms around his beloved instead.  
  
Sam immediately started walking toward the exit with Charles in tow, “See you guys soon, love you!” she called to them, only breathing properly once they’d actually made it out of the building to Charles’ car.  
Her newly caught breath was once again stolen when Charles pinned her against the side of the car, hands around her waist as his lips crashed to hers. His intent for the rest of the evening radiated by way of the heat in his kiss, and Sam shivered as his hand reached down to stroke the exposed skin of her thigh. Shielding her from view with his body, he slid his hand upward until his thumb connected with the edge of her panties, and just a bit farther to find her overly sensitive clit, massaging it lightly as he breathed in her gasp. She trembled as his lips moved to kiss along her collarbones, her neck, all while his thumb continued its motions.   
  
“You’re so wet, Bunty,” he murmured in her ear, punctuating it with a nip to her earlobe. She whimpered and bent her head, eyes fluttering closed. With his free hand, he gripped her chin and gently tilted her head upward, until their eyes met.  
  
“It’s you,” she breathed, “It’s always been you.”  
  
He growled and crushed his lips again to hers, tongues meeting in the middle as they savoured each other. He broke the kiss, panting as he said, “My place or yours?”  
“Mine’s closer,” was her immediate answer.  
  
He swirled his thumb around her clit one more time as he pressed a light kiss to her lips, then opened the door, gesturing for her to get in.

It was only a 10-minute drive, but to the both of them it felt like forever before they were walking through the main entrance. The instant they were in Sam’s apartment, she turned to close and lock the door. Charles was at her back in seconds, his hands running down her sides as she braced hers against the wall. He kissed a trail along her bare shoulders, brushing her hair aside to do the same with her neck. His fingers found the zipper of her dress and he slowly undid it, pressing more kisses along the skin exposed by its progress. He released the zip and the dress pooled at Sam’s feet.  
  
“Are you uncomfortable in those heels, Bunty?” his voice was low as his hands gripped her hips and pulled her against him.  
  
“I-I think I can wear them a bit longer,” she replied coyly, having interpreted where his mind was going.  
  
He expressed his approval by grinding against her backside, his erection making itself well known. She moaned and he reached up to unclasp her bra in one swift movement, the strapless garment falling to the floor. Then, he grasped the hem of her underwear, slowly sliding it down her legs, helping her step out of it when reaching her feet. His hands traced a path up the insides of her legs, gripping her lower cheeks, then continuing upward. She made as if to turn around to face him, but he caught her hands and once again placed them on the wall, “Stay this way, please.”  
  
His tone had her immediately complying, wet enough that her arousal trickled a short ways down her legs. Charles reached his hands around to grasp her breasts, fingers each pinching a nipple, tweaking them. The skin around them pebbled as the small rosy peaks stiffened, Sam’s breath coming in short pants. As he continued working her left nipple, his right hand, never once breaking the connection with her skin, moved downward until the tip of his middle finger stroked over her clit, causing her to groan. He kissed her neck as he stroked fluttering patterns over the bundle of nerves, occasionally dipping down to stroke along her folds, spreading some of her wetness. A low moan spilled from her lips when he inserted his finger inside of her, the palm of his hand continuing to rub her clit. His digit moved in and out, flexing and curling, hitting one particular spot that made Sam shudder uncontrollably. A second finger moved in alongside the first and Sam could feel heat pooling in her belly as his pace increased. He could feel her approaching her peak, revelling in the sob of protest she let out when he suddenly withdrew. He reached over her to grab her right hand and bring it down to where his had just been.  
  
“I want you to touch yourself for me, Samara, just as I was touching you.”  
  
She nodded, any curiosity at his actions silenced as he directed her fingers to continue the patterns he had begun across the roseate pearl at the apex of her legs. Charles watched, impossibly hard, as she did what he asked, her breath hitching as she did so. He pulled out his wallet and removed a condom from it, holding the small packet between his teeth as he undid his tie and deftly unbuttoned his shirt, flinging them and the jacket onto a nearby chair. Sam pressed harder over herself as she heard the clink and rustle of Charles’ pants hitting the floor behind her. Another swish of fabric heralded his joining her in the full state of undress. Charles ripped open the small foil square in his hands and swiftly applied the condom, stepping forward and bringing his hand to gently push hers out of the way, once more gaining possession over her clit.  
  
“Are you ready for me, Bunty?” his lips brushed her ear as he spoke.  
  
In response, she turned her head and kissed him passionately, drawing her breath through her nose as he nudged her legs slightly wider apart. He broke the kiss to line himself up with her entrance, one hand still plying her clit with delicious friction. He teased her, running the head of his cock along her folds, watching with satisfaction as she attempted to move her hips closer to him. He entered her then, as slowly as he could manage, sheathing himself within her inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her. She had let out a small gasp of pain during the movement, and he struggled to remain still as she adjusted to him.  
  
“Are you alright?” he asked, voice a mixture of concern and restraint.  
  
“Yessss,” she hissed.  
  
He experimentally pulled back, then thrust inward again, still gently. She only winced slightly, so he repeated the motion. Slowly, the burning stretch she’d felt became a different burn entirely, and she was soon frustrated by Charles’ maddeningly slow pace. She started pushing her hips backward on his thrusts forward, meeting him with a bit more force.  
  
“Is there something you want, Samara?” he asked, trying to sound amused, though likely it came out as pleading.  
  
“I…I want oooohhhh..” she trailed off in a moan as he changed the angle of his hips, hitting even deeper.  
  
“Tell me,” he commanded, his control wavering.  
  
“I want you to f-fuck me,” she said as firmly as she could manage.  
  
“As you wish,” he smirked.  
  
He gripped her hip harder and began pounding into her, building up a punishing rhythm kept to beat by her chants of “Oh god, yes, harder, please.”  
  
He complied with her every wish, doubling the pressure on her clit as he increased the pace of his thrusts. He could feel her getting close, her muscles tensing as her breaths quickened. He leaned forward, his voice deep and guttural as he said “Come for me, Samara.”  
  
And she did so, while screaming “Fuck, Charles!”   
  
His name erupting from her lips in such a tone, her walls clenching around his length, and how her hand had found his, gripping it hard, pushed him to his climax, he moaning her name in much the same way as she had his. They stayed in that position for a few moments, catching their breath. He pulled out from her and stepped back, giving her room to turn and lean into him, capturing his lips with her own. He reached down and removed the condom, jumping slightly when it was replaced with her hand stroking him. He looked up to see a smirk on her face as she said, “Maybe round two can actually be on the bed.”  
  
“You are insatiable,” he grinned, walking her backwards into the bedroom. They continued various iterations of the first time throughout the night, until they were too exhausted to continue, falling asleep in each other’s arms.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoy <3


End file.
